


Shifting Sands

by FoxMoriarty



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: F/M, Platonic Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-07-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:27:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25130881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxMoriarty/pseuds/FoxMoriarty
Summary: Sometimes after a tough night all you need is a little bit of attention.Sometimes Kate can offer that.
Relationships: Marc Spector/Kate Bishop
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Shifting Sands

**Author's Note:**

> A gift for http://www.tumblr.com/bishopsgotabow

There were bad nights and then there was this.

_Kate_.

He could have gone back to his home. The self-driving car would have gotten him there with a few muttered instructions to the microphone hidden in his cowl. The drone could have flown him home in less than ten minutes, depositing him where he needed to be. Khonshu would have healed him, or if not healed him would have directed people there to help him. He had done it before, and he would do it again. Angry as his god could be, in the end he was still the creation of Khonshu. He was still beloved by the Traveler and tended to him. Even if he needed a few days to mend as he likely did now.

Instead of either reasonable course of action, however, he found himself wavering on the fire escape outside her apartment window. He was a ruined figure in white, costume stained as red as a blood moon in the yellow glare of the street light. He leaned against the window, hand shaking as he peered into the room through his badly torn mask. One eye had swollen shut, blood staining it and rendering the world through a pink haze. HIs head throbbed, every motion creating an odd creaking sound that reminded him of the wood of the hut he'd briefly occupied in the Egyptian sands. He stumbled as the window was thrown open.

"Shit - Marc - what happened -"

He nearly fell into the apartment, but he managed to catch himself soon enough. Fingers worked his suit jacket off of him so that it fell to the floor. They worked open the buttons to reveal the claw marks through his side, the fang marks around his shoulder. He blinked, not fighting but allowing himself to be mostly stripped down. He tumbled into the chair that was pulled out for him, and leaned his head back. He listened to Kate's movements, head in a distant fog as she worked.

The sting of alcohol in his wounds was a distant sensation, as were the words that fell from her lips. Ice in a glass of water, rocks in a pool. He breathed slowly, each rise and fall making his ribs protest in his chest. He should have gone home, he thought dully. He should be in bed, the bone dust around him and the cruel voice of Khonshu like the rattle of branches on the window. He should be in bed, but instead he was there, ice against his lips as he swallowed down the water given him. He blinked, and then ice was there in his hand, urged to his face. Numbing. Cold. 

"What happened? Marc?" 

He raised his hand to brush away the question, but it stuck to his fingers like spiderwebs. He frowned as he looked at his fingers, the torn nails and the dirt staining them. He blinked, and it was cleaned, bandaged. He sat there, dumb and numb in his chair. He was in nothing but his boxers, boxers and bandages wound tight. He wondered if it was water touching his lips or isopropyl alcohol. Alcohol preserving his organs in a fine resin, something for the ages with potpourri slid into his orifices, a fine perfume for the ages. He wrinkled his broken nose, and the world blossomed red once more. 

_Stupid_.

Khonshu had warned him against going against him. He had been warned time and again but had waved off the god. He didn't regret his actions, only not being well-enough prepared to complete the mission he had assigned himself. He swallowed the water pressed to his lips again, and blood swirled over the ice in a viscous ribbon. His mind was a raging sandstorm behind his eyes, a cold desert night in which his fevered body couldn't stop shivering. He blinked dumbly, and Kate was there before him, staring into his eyes with concern.

His single eye. He lowered the ice uneasily, and drew in a breath as he tried to focus upon her. She was saying something, but he couldn't hear it over the sandstorm between his ears. He couldn't focus on her, she was somewhere far away, the fanged face of a furious cat before him instead. She was -

“Thank you for being here,” he said slowly as he focused again. Purple. Black hair. Eyes dark with concern. “Thank you for letting me in. Not many people would’ve done that.” 

Her hand was soft on his uninjured cheek, and he forced himself to focus on that warmth. He reached out blindly, the messy ice pressed to her waist as she moved in closer. Soft lips against the corner of his mouth. He tasted like water and blood, isopropyl alcohol and cedar in the swirling Egyptian sands. He was a mummy himself, ill-preserved for the ages and held together with nothing but bandages, bandages and a kiss. 

He sighed as she moved away, and tilted his head to rest his cheek against her hand once more. She hadn't kissed him before. She hadn't touched him like this before. He squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment, but the storm in his head was all silence. He looked back up at her, and her eyes were wet. Her cheeks were wet, and it was not the melting ice in his hand that caused it. He swallowed.

"Thank you," he said again as he reached up to touch her cheek in turn. "Hey, Kate, I'll be okay. I'm here now, Kate. It'll be okay."


End file.
